Sunday, January 31, 2016
Antoinde de Saint-Exupéry, invisible solicitations in the desert
"As the desert offers no tangible riches, as there is nothing to see or hear in the desert,one is compelled to acknowledge, since the inner life, far from falling asleep, is fortified, that man is first animated by invisible solicitations.”
https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/03/10/antoine-de-saint-exupery-letter-to-a-hostage-sahara/
https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/03/10/antoine-de-saint-exupery-letter-to-a-hostage-sahara/
all will be good.
All will be good..
And if they are still alive they will live happily forever.
Well, an end to many unfair fairy stories.
The myths, I prefer them:
heroes can be seduced and they can die, women can cheat on their husbands,
there is incest and there is the murder of mother, father, brother,sister,
there are raw human emotions, pride, envy, passion, lust and raw strength,
there is cunning and stealth, ways of hiding and surprise. There is even love.
There are wars more than peace, and for the protagonists even courage and
persistence may lead to failure.
No throne is safe.
It is the Gods again and again interfering directly with the fate of the actors.
We can see life as a drama, a comedy, and in the end we sit there in wonder
and may even smile about the futility of plans and games.
But me, a simple man, I sit now on a chair which had belonged to my father.
He used to sit there, smoking cigars or his pipe, reading for hours, writing notes
by hand in his books, and quite often he maybe just appeared to read when he did nothing at all.
It can turn into an art, to do nothing, but in his case i don't know for certain
if it was not more a kind of camouflage, a way to be out of daily business and
family tension.
Now I sit on his chair, maybe i am a bit boring, my nose is running,
I am with a flue, but i find it useful to write into my diary for matters
of discipline. This discipline allows me to put myself into relationship
with the world moving and happening outside and to feel small, slow,
not very important at all.
Outside i can hear the spring storm at night, rain taking turns with snow,
a wind in the forest behind my house shaking the fir trees, the beech trees,
blowing in waves and with an ever changing rhythm.
I smoke a cigarette and drink a wodka lemon, in case you must know.
Soon, i say it to myself, soon I must go and sleep.
There is work to be done tomorrow. But I live only once, now.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good. But can it be?
Will it happen? In the end a futile question.
Would you come with your arms open to share joy,
to comfort me when I am ill, to console me when I am sad,
to be near, to be present, to be present when i will die?
Will you love me?
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
Can I be good, kind, can I be patient,
can I shut up and enjoy silence
together with you?
Yes ,I say to myself, I want all to be good.
All of us want all to be good.
We kill for it, we lie, we run from one
place to another, it doesn't help.
All must be good in ourself, good enough.
We cannot truly love ourself,
we are either not loved
or we can experience the happiness
of love and work with and on it.
There is no way to choose,
no way to plan,
and wishes are going with the wind.
We can open our arms, our hearts,
our mind, we can see each other and ourself
born new each day,
and through all possible patterns
we must refrain from judgement
and reasoning.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
I don't want friends to die,
but they do.
I don't want children and animals killed,
but they are being killed.
I don't want to stand up and speak the truth,
but I must. We must.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
We, us being human, we stumble,
we quarrel, we lose the path,
there are many paths,
Better to help each other
to walk into the rise of the day
and into the grówing evenings
and through the shortening nights.
Even when we are mutilated, deformed.
damaged, we can walk
in beauty and with joy.
Even our sadness is beautiful,
it bears the fruit of experience
and the taste of a life lived,
it shows reflection
like rings in the water.
Yes, I say to myself, let us be calm,
let us be slow, let us be quiet,
Yes, I say to myself, all will be good.
And if they are still alive they will live happily forever.
Well, an end to many unfair fairy stories.
The myths, I prefer them:
heroes can be seduced and they can die, women can cheat on their husbands,
there is incest and there is the murder of mother, father, brother,sister,
there are raw human emotions, pride, envy, passion, lust and raw strength,
there is cunning and stealth, ways of hiding and surprise. There is even love.
There are wars more than peace, and for the protagonists even courage and
persistence may lead to failure.
No throne is safe.
It is the Gods again and again interfering directly with the fate of the actors.
We can see life as a drama, a comedy, and in the end we sit there in wonder
and may even smile about the futility of plans and games.
But me, a simple man, I sit now on a chair which had belonged to my father.
He used to sit there, smoking cigars or his pipe, reading for hours, writing notes
by hand in his books, and quite often he maybe just appeared to read when he did nothing at all.
It can turn into an art, to do nothing, but in his case i don't know for certain
if it was not more a kind of camouflage, a way to be out of daily business and
family tension.
Now I sit on his chair, maybe i am a bit boring, my nose is running,
I am with a flue, but i find it useful to write into my diary for matters
of discipline. This discipline allows me to put myself into relationship
with the world moving and happening outside and to feel small, slow,
not very important at all.
Outside i can hear the spring storm at night, rain taking turns with snow,
a wind in the forest behind my house shaking the fir trees, the beech trees,
blowing in waves and with an ever changing rhythm.
I smoke a cigarette and drink a wodka lemon, in case you must know.
Soon, i say it to myself, soon I must go and sleep.
There is work to be done tomorrow. But I live only once, now.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good. But can it be?
Will it happen? In the end a futile question.
Would you come with your arms open to share joy,
to comfort me when I am ill, to console me when I am sad,
to be near, to be present, to be present when i will die?
Will you love me?
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
Can I be good, kind, can I be patient,
can I shut up and enjoy silence
together with you?
Yes ,I say to myself, I want all to be good.
All of us want all to be good.
We kill for it, we lie, we run from one
place to another, it doesn't help.
All must be good in ourself, good enough.
We cannot truly love ourself,
we are either not loved
or we can experience the happiness
of love and work with and on it.
There is no way to choose,
no way to plan,
and wishes are going with the wind.
We can open our arms, our hearts,
our mind, we can see each other and ourself
born new each day,
and through all possible patterns
we must refrain from judgement
and reasoning.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
I don't want friends to die,
but they do.
I don't want children and animals killed,
but they are being killed.
I don't want to stand up and speak the truth,
but I must. We must.
Yes, I say to myself, I want all to be good.
We, us being human, we stumble,
we quarrel, we lose the path,
there are many paths,
Better to help each other
to walk into the rise of the day
and into the grówing evenings
and through the shortening nights.
Even when we are mutilated, deformed.
damaged, we can walk
in beauty and with joy.
Even our sadness is beautiful,
it bears the fruit of experience
and the taste of a life lived,
it shows reflection
like rings in the water.
Yes, I say to myself, let us be calm,
let us be slow, let us be quiet,
Yes, I say to myself, all will be good.
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